


One Wolf and Two Lambs

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Valjean is dead, Cosette and Marius are mourning, and Éponine is very uncomfortable with all of the emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Wolf and Two Lambs

The fragile connection between the three bends like a blade of grass in the wind under the combined weight of all their history together. Éponine digs into the fabric of the couch, staring out the window, staring at the cold fireplace, staring at the dull wallpaper, staring anywhere but at Cosette sobbing in the chair next to her.

They're in the room where Valjean used to come on his visits. He won't be coming anymore, except in a jar of his ashes. She always liked the old man, ever since he took her and Marius from the barricades away from death. Due to him, she had both Marius and Cosette, and her life should be perfect. Should, but Éponine is never perfect.

Éponine never saw much of Valjean when he came to visit in this house, but she feels like he did. Compelled and uninvited to stay, drawn to Cosette by that horribly painful love she induces in people, unwelcome due to all the mistakes winding themselves around Éponine and Valjean's necks.

Seems like the mistakes got the best of him, Éponine thinks. She didn't hear how he died or the conversation that took place before he did, but she gathered from the shouts and gasps of “Oh! My father! He is dead!” that Jean Valjean had obviously kicked the bucket. She thought at first there might have been some dreadful accident, but it seemed more likely that the old man had simply reached his natural end.

Of course she feels upset about this, but she is also a lot more accustomed to important people disappearing out of her life than Cosette and Marius. She swallows down the wounded thing that tries to crawl out through her mouth as she watches Marius wipe his tears on his coat and go on about how Valjean is a saint.

Her dress feels too tight around her ribs. She likes having a choice in her wardrobe, yet she always finds herself mirroring Cosette. It is probably some deep, shrouded jealousy remaining over Marius, but she doesn't find herself caring about that right now or any other time. Deep emotions aren't really her thing.

However, the fact of the matter is that the cloud of happiness had taken Marius and Cosette by the hands and flown them up high over her head, but she was still clinging by a string to their joy. Éponine feels unneeded in their relationship, and yet they wanted her there during their strolls through the garden and they both kissed her goodnight and goodmorning. 

She feels jumpy, hearing Cosette weep. Marius is crying too - so is his grandfather, who never liked or trusted Éponine and gives her an odd look whenever she bounces her leg or looks in Cosette's direction. Apparently, since the post-marriage daze never hit her thoroughly, that was grounds enough for the grandfather to allow a beacon of doubt to shine through his happy fog.

It isn't her fault that she still feels like a dog.

Éponine knows it is probably inappropriate to be wrapped up in her own angst while the people she loves mourn right in front of her, but she does not feel terribly welcome helping them in their grief.

Eventually, she cannot take another second of hearing the immensity of Cosette's heart spill onto the floor, and she abruptly stands up. Monsieur Gillenormand looked at her once and did not look twice. She left the room quietly, so as not to disturb the picturesque scene of mourning.

The daughter of a wolf flees from the lambs, and she falls against the wall. She should be in there, comforting them. But she does not know how.

Éponine thinks she will not be ready to do anything of that sort for a while. Maybe years. Sometime she will have to learn, she knows, how to deal with being in love with someone she treated like a dog as a child and someone who she acted like a dog for, and all the emotions that come with such a scenario.

She feels a faint familiarity and some kind of nostalgia, leaning against the wall outside the room, as if she is the guard dog once more guarding the gate for the blissful lovers.


End file.
